Lay Your Hands On Me
by paddywhacked
Summary: ."So what do you need? Money?" If she had medical bills to pay he was sure could pull together whatever she needed. She shook her head. Dwayne was afraid to look over at her, certain she'd be crying. "I was hoping for a place to stay until it was over."
1. Lay Your Cards Out On The Table

He could sense her following him, even amidst the crowd of the boardwalk. The faint shuffling of her thong sandals on the rough concrete, the whisper of the wind through her skirts, and that vaguely familiar, oddly comforting scent that he couldn't quite place. He could tell that she was only a few paces behind him, the speed of her steps falling easily into sync with his no matter how often he sped up or slowed down. But, everytime he'd discreetly turn to check her out, she was gone. He felt like Orpheus, leadin Eurydice from Hades, but he had no idea just who this metaphorical long lost bride was. She'd disappeared completely by the time they reached the video store, and though he strained all his senses, she'd left no hint as to who she was or where she'd gone.

"Dwayne!"

The sound of his own name pulled him out of his revery. Covering his confusion with a winning smile, he slapped Marco on the back as he slid from his bike. Their nightly visits to Max's Video might have seemed pointless to the outsider, but more was exchanged in those tense, silent moments than in an hour of conversation. Tonight though, Dwayne wasn't paying attention 0 he was distracted by the thoughts of whomever it had been that was following him. Had the other boys heard? If they had, why hadn't any of them spoken up? Was he just losing his mind? It certainly wouldn't surprise him if he was. The ride back to the cave was quiet, no sign of anyone - further proof that he'd let his imagination get away with him. And reluctantly he'd let the event slip from his mind.

The next night, she was back - in jeans this time. He could hear the faintest swish of fabric whenever her thighs brushed up against one another. Yet again, whenever he'd glance over his shoulder, ever so carefully, she was gone and no matter how hard he searched he couldn't place her face among the dozens that thronged around their little group. He wanted to say something to the others - see if they noticed something that he didn't, but somehow he supposed that they noticed even less. If David had been aware of someone following them, the problem would have been quickly dispatched of. He was certain that he'd gone far off the deepend when he heard a small high pitched voice singing just below his left ear.

"We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong. Searchin' our hearts for so long, both of us knowing: Love is a battlefield."

He glanced down sharply, and was met with a mop of dark hair, long and messy, framing a pale face with dark kohl lined eyes. Hauntingly familiar but he still couldn't place it. The ring in her nose glinted in the neon lights thrown off by one of the near by carnival rides. Her small frame surprisingly had no problems keeping up with his long strides. He didn't slow as he looked her up and down. There was no doubt about it - this was her. The same haunting perfume, and the sound of her acid wash jeans swishing together between her fragile legs was even clearer now that she was close. She smiled at his gaze, a soft scornful laugh passing her lips.

"We are young. Heartache to heartache we stand. No promises or demands. Love is a battlefield." The singing stopped. "You should do a bit more research on your family tree, brother mine. Maybe then you'd recognize your own sister." She was gone as quickly as she'd come, disappeared back into the crowd without a word. And as much as he twisted and turned, looking for her over the heads of the crowd around him, he couldn't spot her. He shook his head, turning his attention back in front of him as he tried to clear up what had just happened.

"Who was that?" It was Marco's voice that broke the silence between them.

"Dunno." It wasn't a lie - he'd hardly recognized the girl. And he hadn't seen his sister in years - she'd been just a hair shy of 8 when he'd left home. Though, she would be nearing 19 now. But how could she have found him? More importantly, why would a girl want to lie about being his sister. He tried his best to push all these thoughts from his mind - it seemed that he'd have all his questions answered soon, whether he liked it or not. There was no use wasting time on them.

Across the boardwalk, Angela was leaning against one of the carousel horses, watching the world around her spin in a lazy circle. She felt as though she'd been spinning for the last three months, slowly but surely out of control. All until she'd found just the smallest hint as to where her brother had disappeared to all those years ago. Santa Carla. The name sounded exciting, exotic, to the small mid-western girl. She'd imagined palm trees, and cool drinks with umbrellas in them and beautiful skies that were always filled with sun. The entire drive from Oklahoma, she'd heard laughter and seen suntans.

It had rained her first day there. She'd wasted that day, locked inside her dingy hotel room, that had more than likely housed a thousand heroin addicts, and stared out the window at the dismal gray sky. As soon as the weather had cleared, she'd begun her search. Surprisingly, it wasn't hard to spot Dwayne amidst the throngs of people that frequented the tourist trap pier. In fact, he'd found her - nearly knocking her over with his bike one night. She'd recognized his deep laugh and wild hair instantly - he hadn't aged a day since he'd left home.

At first, she'd only trailed after him, weaving through the masses a few paces behind him, ducking out of sight whenever ever he'd begin to turn around. Soon, she was certain he knew of her presence, she'd seen him stiffen the day he realized she was there. Tonight, she'd taken the next step, spoken up and let him know she was there. Tomorrow, well tomorrow she'd have to think up something else to say. For now, though, she hid herself away back at her hotel and slept hard, her weak body desperate for rest after being pushed to the limit.

She woke early the next evening, giving her time time shower, dress, grab a small snack from the pitiful excuse of a vending machine down the hall, and finally swallow the massive cocktail of pills she was required to down nightly. Pulling her hair back off of her face, she grabbed her bag on the way out the door.

Tonight, _he'd_ found _her_.


	2. What You Get Ain't Always What You See

Dwayne had spent the rest of the night and some of the next day pacing the floor of the cave, his mind racing. He hadn't seen Angela in years, and as his mind raced around the thought of it, he became more and more sure that this little girl really was his Angie. He was determined to find her, talk to her, find out just who she really was. And if she was his sister, he was determined to find out why she was here, in Santa Carla, and not home, doing normal teenage girl things, still believing that her brother was long dead, as the note that he'd sent home to them ages ago had suggested.

He'd found her on the carousel. She was looking down, her fingers playing with a small scrap of paper, most likely a flyer that had fallen off one of the multiple bulletin boards that plastered the boardwalk. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of her that she looked up. Her eyes were hollow, with dark bags under them, and her skin seemed even paler now, in the sickly yellow light of the carousel, than it had the night before. Neither spoke for a long moment, both unsure of what to say, if there was anything to say at all. He wasn't about to scoop her into his arms the way he had when she was just a tot, and she wasn't about to beg for a piggy back either. Finally, her soft voice broke the silence.

"See you've still got that irritating habit of being able to find me at my worst." She coughed a bit into a kleenex she'd had squished in her other hand, and looked up at him, allowing one hand to rest brazenly on his shoulder to help her down from the horse she'd been side-saddling. "I thought I'd never find you, but the world is full of miraculous surprises, I guess." She shrugged and hopped off the ride, not really giving him much option of following her, and for the moment, Dwayne got the feeling that she didn't really care if he stayed there or not. Catching up with her as she headed towards the beach, away from the crowds, he stayed silent still, knowing that there was more to come from her. Finally. "Mom's dead."

"Oh." He couldn't think of anything else to say to such a closed statement. Everyone died. Maybe he should have been more distraught, but he wasn't, he couldn't even muster a tear for a woman who had cared for him more deeply than any he'd ever know. He sensed there was more to it than that, but he didn't question, only followed Angela's example as she sat one one of the many rocks that jutted out along the Santa Carla coast. She let her small hands slip between her bony knees as she looked around for a long moment.

"Where y'been Dwayne?" The question was easier asked than answered.

"You know. Around." She nodded only once.

"I'm sick too, y'know." She was silent for a moment, to allow this new message to sink in, though she wasn't sure if her brother would even care any more. Somehow, she sensed that the man next to her now was only a shell of the boy who'd left home eleven years ago. "They don't give me long. And I knew that letter you sent was a lie, even though Mom told me it was just crazy talk to say you were still out there somewhere. I wanted to see you before it happened, let you know that she was gone." There was a long moment of heavy silence after this.

"So what do you need?" His voice was soft, thoughtful, just like she'd remembered it. "Money or something?" If she had medical bills to pay, he was sure that he could pull together whatever she needed without much trouble. Her long, messy hair waved as she shook her head 'no'. Her thin hands had worked their way into the pockets of her jeans for warmth.

"No. Not money." There was a shaky breath and Dwayne was afraid to look over at her, certain she'd be crying. He hated when girls cried - it was the most pathetic sight in the world. "I was hoping for a place to stay until it was over." Her strong voice assured him that she wasn't tearing up, and he let his gaze move from the waves over to her.

"You mean until - "

"Yeah."

Silence again.

"The doctors ... they can't do anything?" He wasn't sure how to feel, if he could still feel at all. On the one hand, his baby sister, his flesh and blood, the child he had piggybacked a mile to school each way every day, had just come to him and told him she was dying without so much as batting an eye. And more than that, she was asking him to watch her as she did. On the other hand, she knew nothing about him now, and how would he ever begin to explain? He looked over at the fragile frame she cut against the darkness that seemed to close in further and further with each passing moment of silence.

"No. They've done what they can, but it's just spread to far." A pause. "I'm not afraid of dying, Dwayne. I'm just afraid of dying alone." When she'd heard her prognosis and begun her search for her brother in earnest, she'd been terrified to lay her head down at night, worrying that she might pass in her sleep. How long would it take for someone to find her in a sleezy place like the ones she'd been shacking up at? Dwayne was staring at her now, and it was making her skin crawl with discomfort.

"Let's go for a walk." He said at length, pushing himself back off the rock, his boots sinking deep into the soft sand. Angela reached her arms out, letting him lift her down. She took a few steps ahead of him, and Dwayne marveled at how her small body didn't sink in the sand, seeming instead to levitate across the top of it as she walked, holding her shoes in one hand to keep them from filling up. As they began to wander down the coast, he began to speak, starting from the beginning and forcing himself to forward.

The lights of the boardwalk were barely a glimmer in the dark behind them when he finished. As he'd spoken, Angela had remained silent, only nodding on occasion to signify she was still listening, and now that he was finished she still remained quiet, lost in her thought. He made no move to speak again, nor to prompt her to do so.

"Oh." She said finally, echoing his own statement from just a few hours ago. Though part of what he'd said was completely unbelievable, she accepted every word as the gospel truth without so much as a second thought. If her brother said it was so, then it was so. But she was still unsure of what to say to such a revelation. "I'm not scared of you." She said finally.

He nodded.

"Come on. Let's go back and get your stuff before the sun comes up."

He'd helped her get her car to the bluff and had carried her things down the rickety stairs to the cave, constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure she hadn't stumbled silently after him. They'd left her things in a corner of the main cave, Dwayne saying they'd find her some place to settle later. But first, they had to get back to the boardwalk so that he could give the boys a heads up and give David his chance to fume if he was going to need it.

They caught up with the other three by Max's Video, near where they'd all parked their bikes at the beginning of the evening when Dwayne had separated silently from the group. Angela felt their eyes on her even though her own gaze was focused on the pavement, a mix of cold stares and mocking ones. The one with the wild yellow hair spoke first.

"So, what … you're bringing pussy home now? When did that rule start? 'Cause I've got some girls I want to bring too." Angela didn't even look at him to dignify that she'd heard a word he said, and besides that, Dwayne had already curled a lip at him.

"She's my fuckin' sister. Shut up."

There was a long moment before the bleached blonde one gestured that Dwayne should step away for a moment. As they stepped aside to talk, Angela felt the other two staring at her, their eyes burning holes straight through her, and she shivered slightly. It wasn't what they were that frightened her, it was the unfamiliarity that they held. After a moment of what looked like a heated discussion, her brother stepped back and the boy he'd spoken to, the handsome one with the blue eyes spoke up.

"This is Angela. She's going to be staying with us for a i short /i while." The emphasis on short made Angela wince, but she didn't speak up, not even when the boy, who she assumed was the leader, spoke up. "I'm David. Marco. Paul." She nodded quietly in recognition to those she'd been introduced to. Dwayne rested a hand on her shoulder and she closed her eyes tight for a minute.

"I feel tired." She said finally, looking up to him. He nodded, cocking his head towards his bike.

"Let's get you settled." She clung to his arm gratefully as he spoke, not wanting to release him just yet – not quite ready to be at the mercy of the others ridicule. She climbed on the bike behind her brother, looking over her shoulder as the other three huddled together. She knew what they were talking about and it brought a shameful blush to her cheeks. Maybe she should never have come.


	3. I Can Show You How To Fly

It had taken her a little less than a week to settle in, or as David liked to say "completely taken the damn place over." The Boys had grown used to waking up to her loud music blaring from somewhere deep beyond the main cave, where Dwayne had helped her set all her things out. In all honesty, as much as David had taken to complaining about a female taking up residence, Angela kept to herself most of the time: coming out of her room only to eat, speak to Dwayne, and make her way out to the boardwalk. Few words were exchanged between her and any of the Boys, and those that were, were purely accidental. An "I'm sorry" for a run in in the hall, an "excuse me" if she was trying to get by. And perhaps it was her silence that perked his interest from deep beneath his obvious disdain.

"Knock, knock." Nothing about the words were friendly, or warming the way they always seemed when _other _people expressed them. No, they dripped with sarcasm when the passed his lips. Angela looked up reluctantly from the book she'd been reading, looking up at the figure in her makeshift doorway. David was leaned against the cold rock, his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched what she was doing. Angela suddenly felt as if she were naked. He took a step further into the room, and it took everything in her not to scoot further up on her mattress to get away from him, but she held her ground. "What's that?" He nodded to the book in her lap, and she shrugged.

"The Walking Drum." There was silence, and she reluctantly turned the book around to show him the cover, as if he didn't hear her. He reached out one gloved hand and lifted the hardcover out of her hands, bringing it up to investigate it further. Angela let her thin arms cross over her chest, tilting her head up to look at him as he flipped through the pages, letting out a soft 'hmm' sound, before passing it back. "So?" She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

"Looks interesting enough."

"Do you like history?" She blurted the question out without realizing it, surprising herself. She hadn't expected to speak to him, to any of them, of her own free will. There was no point in building relationships now, when they were only going to be left behind. But the question came out all the same. Pat Benatar was playing softly on a stereo in the far corner of the room. David had quickly picked up that she was Angela's favorite singer, considering the fact that the girl was always singing one of her songs. Earlier that day, when she'd breezed out of her room to find something to eat before returning to her room, it had been We Believe.

"No use getting bent out of shape over something that's already happened. I don't buy that whole history repeats itself bullshit. It'll repeat itself whether I know about it or not."

Angela nodded to this, her eyes focusing on the cover of the book in her lap, her fingers tracing over the raised lettering of the cover. The lull in conversation had allowed the uncomfortable feeling to run free in her veins, and all she wanted to do was get up and run. Instead she stayed frozen on her mattress, staring down, her fingers falling from the book cover to pick at the torn knees of her whitewash jeans, her dark hair falling in her face.

"What are you afraid of me for?"

She looked up at him sharply, her eyes wide as if she'd been called out on cheating at a game of cards. For a moment her mouth hung open, her shock at his forwardness obvious. But then again, hadn't she been obvious about how little she wanted to be around him and the others? And here she was, staying in their home, taking up their space. It was his right to call her out on being rude, wasn't it? She shook her head a bit and straightened, patting the space on the mattress next to her, gesturing for him to sit.

"I'm not afraid."

"I beg to differ." He accepted her offer of a seat, and shifted down next to her, taking his time looking around her 'room'. He hadn't actually been inside of it since she'd moved in, and he took the chance to see what she'd done to the place. It wasn't much – a few posters here and there, hung haphazardly on the uneven walls, her clothing stacked on top of boxes, a mattress with some blankets, a guitar in its case leaned up against the wall by a beat up boom box, and a few stuffed animals. "You play?" He nodded towards the guitar, noting the stickers and paintings that decorated the case as she nodded faintly.

"A bit. I tried to teach myself a few years ago and I managed to get by on a few songs. I'm not very good though. It just seemed a waste to throw it away."

"Play something." It wasn't a request. It was an outright command, and though Angela was used to throwing her foot down when people tried to boss her around, she found herself getting up and making her way to the case. Carefully carrying it back to the mattress, she settled herself back next to David and pulled the guitar out. It was battered, bought at a dime store years ago. The poor thing had ended up as more decoration than instrument. Angela coughed anxiously, nervously running her fingers over the strings to make sure they were still in tune, making adjustments when they were needed.

"I'm really not very good…" She said again, as if to warn him what he was getting into before striking a chord, squeezing her eyes shut tight for a minute before turning her head down to focus on her fingering. A few chords in she took a deep breath to move into the song – she felt like she was about to throw up. "_I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do ya? Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift. The baffled king composing hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah._"

Her voice wasn't good by any means, but it wasn't bad either. It just was. And she'd been right, she wasn't very good, but again, she wasn't bad either. She was a supreme show of mediocrity. David tilted his head, listening to her, ignoring the imperfections in her voice, paying more attention to her ironic choice of song. He could see that her hands were shaking as she played, her nerves wracked by the idea of an audience, but she hadn't backed down and he was impressed.

"_Well maybe there's a God above, but all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew ya'. Remember when I moved in you, the holy dove is moving too. And every breath we drew was hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah._" She didn't try to make an impressive end to the song, or draw it out any further than it was necessary. She just dropped her hands and looked over at him, waiting for his response. He only nodded and pushed himself up off of the mattress, moving to the door. Walking away, he didn't look back at her as he spoke.

"Play again for me some time."


	4. I Only Aim To Please

The past few weeks had seemed to blend together into a whirlwind blur for both Angela and Dwayne. For Angela, the tedious process of getting her 'affairs' settled had consumed most of her time - setting aside money for Dwayne to pay for a simple ceremony, packing her things away so they wouldn't be difficult to get rid of when she was gone. She'd even written her own will on a scrap of notebook paper. It hadn't said much, but then again she didn't have much to her name: a few records that she wanted Dwayne to keep, her dusty old guitar, her books. Everything else was expendable. Most of the crumpled piece of paper had been filled with instructions for her funeral. She wanted it to be simple, but she wanted it to be in a church. No one need attend it, really, just Dwayne and a priest. She knew that dealing with the clergy was certain to be a challenge for her brother, especially in his current state, so she'd taken it upon herself to arrange the services. All Dwayne needed to do was set the date once she'd passed. And she was certain that date would be soon. Her time was very swiftly coming to an end and she found that she was taking it in stride far more gracefully than she'd ever anticipated. She'd shed her selfish tears long ago, and while she'd thought she might cry for the brother she was leaving behind, she knew now that in the grand scheme of things, he wasn't going to miss her all that much. She was just a brief spark that flew from the fire that was his life and in a few years, a second to him, she'd be forgotten, a ghost that waded through the fog that was his ageless memory. The thought that her brother wouldn't mourn her for very long was strangely reassuring.

For Dwayne the weeks had flown by just as quickly, and though he never showed it, he was devastated by the obvious decline of his baby sister's health. When he'd originally agreed to let her stay with him, he'd thought that he'd handle her death the same as he dealt with every death in his life, with the same thought you'd give a snuffed out candle. But every morning, as he watched her grow thinner and paler, he'd felt the heart that he'd thought he'd lost start to break. It was plain that her number was almost up. She was skin and bones now, a gaunt ghost of the girl he'd found on the boardwalk that night two months ago. He almost laughed at how he'd thought she'd looked on the verge of death _then_. Angela seemed un-phased by it all though, as far as he could see. She still laughed and joked with him when they were alone. She very rarely mentioned the fact that her time on this earth was winding down with the speed of the counter of a bomb in a Bond movie. And he played along with her, acting as if they had all the time in the world, as if the sight of the only family he had left wasting away wasn't like a shot to the heart.

It was a Saturday evening and Angela was on her way out the door as usual, avoiding the rest of the boys as best she could as was her custom. It was warm outside, but she'd bundled herself up in a baggy cardigan and one of Dwayne's leather jackets. She swam in the garment but it kept her temperature just above freezing. She was always cold now and it seemed that nothing, not even laying in the bright sun could warm her. She'd give up on seeing the sun a long time ago, opting instead to keep her brother's hours, as difficult as they were, wanting to see him as much as she could in her last days. Padding outside in stocking feet she scrambled her way down the craggy rocks that led to the ocean, losing her footing only once in her effort. It took her only a few moments to make it to her favorite rock, and she curled herself up on it, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping herself tight in Dwayne's jacket as she looked out over the ocean. The quiet crash of the waves on the rocks was like a lullaby and she quickly forgot about everything and everyone but herself and the water before her. In doing so, she didn't hear the footfalls on the rocks behind her.

"You should be resting."

David's voice broke her reverie and she nearly jumped out of her skin in fright, nearly falling off her perch in the process. David's hand roughly grabbing onto her arm was all that kept her from tumbling into a crag between her rock and it's neighbor. She glared over at him and pulled her arm back as she regained her balance – his grip would no doubt leave a massive bruise and her hand automatically went up to rub at her injuries. She wasn't sure what upset her more, the fact that he scared her out of her wits, or the fact that what should have been a caring sentiment had been said with such a careless attitude. 'You should be resting.' It sounded like something a mother would tell her child, but he'd said it as if he was asking her to go to the store to pick up some milk. She scoffed quietly at herself, as if she should expect anything less from David.

"What do you care if I should be resting?" She spat, shivering slightly under her layers. He eyed her, lowering himself to sit next to her, his arm brushing hers only causing her to shiver more. Again silence settled over the two and Angela began to wonder if he'd even heard her question. It wouldn't be the first time he'd completely blocked her out. But then, just as she was certain he'd stopped listening to her, he'd spoken.

"Dwayne is upset." He said this with the same devil may care attitude he said everything and it made Angela's blood boil. "…because of you. It's bad for the pack. And what's bad for the pack is bad for me."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, David! I forgot that my entire _fucking_ universe revolved around you. Jesus Christ. I'm sorry that my goddamn _death_ is such a fucking inconvenience. Don't worry. I'll be out of your way very shortly."

This didn't seem to bring David any relief and he eyed her as if she'd just spat in his face. Angela turned way, pulling the collar of her coat up against a sudden ocean breeze. She was shivering again, harder this time and before she had the chance to tighten her jacket she felt another one being laid over her shoulders. She looked up sharply, meeting David's gaze head on. He was in just a tee shirt now and she found herself taking in his form without realizing it. He really was statuesque when his mouth was shut.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked quietly, fingering a button on the trench coat that was now enveloping her tiny frame. He shrugged and stared out at the ocean blankly.

"Cold doesn't bother me anymore. Besides, I don't want you freezing to death out here. It would be inconvenient." His words should have stung, but Angela found herself turning to face him despite her better judgement, her eyes settling on his face as his gaze focused out on the horizon. She wanted to speak, to break the silence that seemed to cloud all of their conversations, but she found that she couldn't force a single sound out. Just when things were starting to become uncomfortable for her, David broke the quiet. "Why haven't you asked one of us to change you?" It was a sincere question and he turned his head to look at her as shock settled over her face. She hadn't been expecting this question. In fact, she'd never even entertained the idea of asking her brother to make her into what he was. The word vampire seemed like a taboo in her vocabulary. She hadn't spoken it out loud since her brother had revealed to her what he was. She wasn't about to start now. It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea of being one – in fact she was certain she'd enjoy it. But there was something to be said for pride and the vulnerability involved, the intimacy required to make the change was more than she could handle.

"I…I just can't." She said finally. David's eyes were piercing and she found herself looking down to escape his gaze. She didn't like the feeling that he could read her mind when he looked at her like that. "It's just not an option. Besides, I'm alright with dying. It's just another adventure… just like Peter Pan said." David seemed to like her analogy, and a smirk passed over his face as he leaned towards her, his lips almost brushing her ear as he spoke.

"So be our Wendy." He whispered, his hot breath caressing her skin. She shivered a third time, but it wasn't because of the cold. "Isn't that just as big of an adventure?" He raised an eyebrow at her as he pulled away and she felt her stomach start to tighten. And then he was grinning at her, his teeth glinting eerily in the moonlight and before she knew what she was doing she was scrambling to get up, stumbling over the rocks back towards the cave, back towards her brother, and certainty, and safety. Away from the dangerous door that David had cracked open.

The sprint back inside was more exercise than she'd had in months and it took it's toll on her fragile body. When she reached the last steps of the main cave her lungs began to burn, her frame wracking with heaving coughs as she stumbled to the fountain to sit. There was no one around. Dwayne must not be awake yet. She should get back to her room. David wouldn't follow her in there. But when she pulled her hands away from where they were covering her mouth she knew that it would be best if she stayed where she sat, as terrified as she was. Her palms were covered in blood. She could taste the copper in her mouth and she knew what was coming.

David was by her side, then. And she looked at him with wide eyes, trying her best to wipe the blood off her lips, off her hands. He looked hungry, like an animal, but he kept his composure, moving to lift her up, carrying her to the bed that sat at the far side of the cave. Laying her against the pillows he brushed her hair from her face and stared at her for a long moment before speaking.

"Stay here." She tried to laugh at the idea she could move to go anywhere but the sound gurgled in her throat before turning to another round of coughs. And then David was gone and she was alone in the cave and she began to panic. What if she really was dying? What if he didn't get back in time? What if she ended up going all alone? She felt the tears start to sting the corners of her eyes. No. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't. Just as she felt herself start to lose her battle against her tears, David returned, with Dwayne by his side. Her brother took one look at her and pulled his leader aside. Angela had to strain her ears to hear, but if she really listened she could just make out what they were saying across the room.

"What the fuck did you do to her, David?" Dwayne's voice was angry, and it sent a chill through Angela's body. It was so rare that her brother raised his voice.

"I didn't do anything to her that you weren't thinking." David spat back. Their voices descended into whispers for a long moment before she was able to pick out anything more.

"Well, do you think she's…" Dwayne again. He didn't seem able to force himself to finish his thought. She felt herself frown. He couldn't be upset about her death. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was supposed to take it the same way he would take one of his record's breaking – as if it were nothing.

"No." It was David speaking now. "But I don't know if you'll have another opportunity to make the change. Do you really want her to die?" David's voice sounded urgent. It was the most emotion she'd ever heard from him, not that that was saying much. There was a long pause following his question and Angela was starting to think that Dwayne might have walked away. But then he was speaking, his voice so low she had to strain to make it out.

"No."

"Then do it." David once more. "Do it now while you have the chance. She might last another week, she might go tonight. This is your last opportunity, Dwayne. Don't fucking waste it."

And then Dwayne was above her, sitting next to her on the bed, brushing her hair from her face. She was staring at him wide eyed, terrified of what was going to happen next. She wasn't sure what she wanted. Of course she didn't want to die, but did she really want was he was going to offer? He was speaking to her. She hadn't been listening and she forced herself to snap back to attention.

"You don't have to do this. I'll understand if you don't. But if you want it…" His voice trailed off and she closed her eyes tight as she tried to focus on answering his question. She didn't realize she was nodding until she felt something wet drop against her lips. Her eyes flashed open and she saw the gaping wound in Dwayne's wrist, positioned just above her lips. She turned her head away, spitting the blood that had seeped through the crease in her lips onto the pillow. She didn't want this. Not from her own brother. It felt incestuous. And then she heard David tell Dwayne to get out of the way, and she felt the blood drip onto her cheek, and she was crying now. A strong pair of hands forced her onto her back once more, and she looked up to see David above her this time. His wrist was positioned over her lips and he had her jaw gripped tightly in his other hand, holding her still, keeping her from escaping his intentions.

"You want it. Whether you want to admit it or not." He stared at her for a long minute, his eyes icy. "Drink. Don't be an idiot." He pressed his lips against her tight lips and she felt the blood start to seep through once more. But this time instead of fighting she found herself swallowing. And then her lips were parting and she was sucking at his wrist in earnest, her fingers gripping his arm tightly. And then he was pulling away, and she felt herself getting sleepy. "She needs to rest." He must have been talking to Dwayne. She felt herself falling, and she wanted to reach out for Dwayne, tell him to stay with her, tell him she was frightened. But the darkness came and overtook her and everything was still.


End file.
